


holding hands with your heart.

by starrynights234



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, First Kiss, Flirting, Fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute, Mike is the police chief's son, Police Procedural, Richie is a vigilante, Vandalism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:21:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24134251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starrynights234/pseuds/starrynights234
Summary: my dad is a cop and i just called him and he was like “hey i have a 17 year old boy in the back of my cop car right now that i’m running him to the station” and i asked if he was cute and my dad said “Hey, my daughter wants to know if you’re cute” and the guy said “i want to say yes, sir” and my dad started laughing so hardaka Richie is involved with somelightvandalism, and then is very, very surprise when the Chief's son finds him cute too.
Relationships: Mike Hanlon/Richie Tozier
Comments: 7
Kudos: 50





	holding hands with your heart.

**Author's Note:**

> so a thousand years ago @ahoylovers on tumblr tagged this post by @christmasbarakat as _hanziercore_ and i thought that was so galaxy-brained i wrote 4k words about it! so enjoy!!

"Mr Tozier." 

Richie's finger froze on the valve of his aerosol can, the spray of black paint ceasing on its path to create the harsh and censoring block on the brick wall. The flashes of blue and red washed around his vision, casting a shadow against his project from his own hoodied form and a faded, doubled figure of the police officer behind him. He lowered the bandanna he'd fashioned for a mask before slowly turning around, lifting his arms and dropping the can. 

"Evening, Chief. A bit chilly tonight, huh?" 

The police officer sighed, a ghost of a smile on his lips and walked towards the boy with resigned steps, the halo of blazing lights dimming as he ventured closer to reveal his tired and familiar face. Richie grinned with squinted eyes through the bright light, the wind tugging at his hood to pull it down back over his curls, the ringlets blowing into his shadowed face, paint smudged across his cheekbone. 

"What're you doin', Tozier?" 

Richie's smile faltered for a moment, his raised hand falling to push his hair back from his face and his expression dimmed to of one more serious, "Look, Chief Hanlon, sir, I know it's technically illegal, but you've seen the shit- I mean stuff those fuckers\- sorry, I mean, horrible people write on here. It's disgusting and you n' I both know the goddamn city council aren't gonna do shit about it so I uh," 

"Decided to participate in some late-night vigilante justice?" Police Chief Hanlon remarked, trying his hardest not to display the amusement, or even worse the pride, that was pulling at his features. Richie shrugged in response, at least showing a bit of guilt as he looked at the ground. 

"Yeah." 

Chief Hanlon sighed again, deeper and paired with a hand wiping at his brow, "Mr Tozier," He met his eyes, "Richie. You know I have to take you in for this. No matter how honourable your intentions were." 

"For the record, I wasn't planning on getting caught," Richie smirked a little, "That's just a bit of a bonus; I do love our police car chats." 

Restraining an eye roll, the Police Chief reached to his belt to unfurl his handcuffs from it's attached pocket, "You know the drill." 

Richie obediently turned around, hands gravitating to the small of his back and barely flinching at the touch of cold metal against his wrists. Hanlon made quick work of clicking the handcuffs, frowning at the thinness of his wrists, before clapping a firm hand to his shoulder and leading him to the car, the two of them bathed in blinding light. 

The movements of getting into the car were practised: Hanlon opening the door, Richie shuffling expertly into the back seat with restrained hands, Hanlon closing the door behind him and then circling his way around to the driver's seat. Seasoned, compliant, and far too familiar. 

When Hanlon started the car and turned off the light, he adjusted his rear-view mirror to watch as Richie relinquished to tilted his head back against the seat, eyes gravitating out the window. He breathed deeply out his nose, hand sliding across the steering wheel as he turned onto the dark road towards the station. 

"You know you're a good kid, Richie." He started, and watched in the mirror as Richie looked over a bit alarmed, used to the simpler, more offensive talks of 'Your cause doesn't outweigh the crime.' and, 'If this happens again more serious consequences will have to follow.'. But the sincerity in the Police Chief’s voice threw Richie off for a moment, and honestly, it did Hanlon as well. He didn't entirely know what possessed him to need to say the things he did; maybe it was the blocked out slur the boy had been working on that was very much obviously personal to his family. 

"In theory." A mumble replied. 

"I'm serious, kid. You've got morals; and not just that - guts. But you just- you go about it the wrong way. You gotta leave it sometimes." 

"I can't. You know I can't."

A pause.

"And I know you can't either, sir." 

Hanlon pursed his lips, knuckles tightening on the wheel, "Maybe not. But I'm not a punk kid with a spray can," Richie hung his head and Hanlon's grip relaxed along with the slope of his shoulders, "You gotta pick your battles, kid, because seeing you staring at me under these lights with your hands in the air is not a sight I look forward to, believe it or not." 

The two of them sat for a moment, Hanlon focusing on staring out the windshield at the dark autumn evening, the crackling and soft voices of his radio unheard. He saw Richie blinking rapidly and his chest lurched. With a quick executive decision, he decided that that seemed to be enough and reached for the radio knob. 

"Any requests?" His voice lighter, more like the cheerful Police Chief who ruffled his curls when he saw him at the Summer Parade. 

A smile curled at Richie's mouth and he eyed the small disco ball dangling from the rear-view mirror, "Got any disco?" 

"Earth, Wind & Fire it is." 

The first chords of September were quietly strumming through the cruising police car when the car phone shrilled, the two of them flinching in surprise. Hanlon quickly picked it up, ignoring Richie's back seat remark about the danger of calling and driving. 

"Police Chief Hanlon." 

"Hey Pop, Ma wants to know when your shift's gonna end so she can make supper." Mike Hanlon's voice rattled through, the faint murmur of voices in the background along with another few ringings made him wonder where he was. He checked the time on the dashboard. 

"It'll be closer to 7, Mikey. Tell your ma to keep a plate warm for me. Where are you, son?" 

"I'm at the station. Is it okay if I come home with you? FInd anything on your rounds?" 

Hanlon glanced towards the mirror to Richie looking curiously back at him and he smiled lightly, "Yeah. Got some 18-year-old punk I caught graffitiing the Townhouse," He ignored Richie's protests, "Bringing him back just to write 'im up." 

He heard Mike hum and then chuckle on the other end, "Hm, is he cute?" 

Hanlon frowned, and he turned a little towards Richie to peer at him over his shoulder, "My son wants to know if you're cute." 

Richie grinned and leaned forward, cocking his head cheekily and charmingly, "I want to say yes, sir." 

Police Chief Hanlon barked in laughter, Mike echoing his own chuckles in his ear and Richie grinned wider, settling back as he contently watched the many laughter lines in the Chiefs face deepen. 

"Alright, alright," Hanlon's chuckles subsided and he readjusted the phone on his ear, hands gliding over the wheel as he turned the car into the car park, "I'll see you inside." 

"'Kay Pop, see ya." 

Hanlon yanked up the brake and the car jerked to a stop, the lamppost cemented into a small fenced plot of grass beaming through the windshield to ignite how the Police Chief's head resigned forwards. Richie's stomach dropped. 

The next few moments were once again painfully practised: Hanlon lumbering out his seat, opening the back car door for Richie to shuffle out, Hanlon's hand firm on his bicep to keep him balanced, it then moving to between his shoulder blades as to guide him towards the precinct. 

"Evening, Ellie!" Richie grinned in greeting at the receptionist twirling a strand of stray greying auburn hair around her finger, staring dully at her computer screen. She looked blandly towards the boy, very accustomed to his behaviour, but her dark green eyes twinkled with hidden affection. 

"Back already, Richard? I'd've thought you'd at least want to wash before you got caught again?" She smirked, letting the ringlet fall to bump against her freckled and rouged cheek. 

"Yowza!" Richie barked, as Hanlon worked through a document Richie never bothered to learn of, "Mrs M, you know I only keep coming back for you." 

"Clearly." She hummed, taking back and looking over the clipboard, looking back at him at the low angle to make Richie snort. 

"How’s Bev doin’?" He asked, pushing on his toes to watch as she ducked under the desk to pull out his file, one bent and ripped a bit from frequent use. 

"Mhm," Her tongue smudged at her painted bottom lip as she fiddled with the paper clip to slide the sheet behind the others, "Home today as I'm afraid she's grounded." 

"Oh no." Richie murmured, Mrs Marsh oblivious to his secret smile as he was well aware that Beverly Marsh was currently on a date with Ben Hanscom at the cinema tonight, "Shame." 

She hummed and pulled out yet another file from under her desk. And then another. And another. 

Hanlon looked at her in disbelief, pen poised midair. Elfrida shrugged, leafing through yet another box of files labelled 'T', "Mr Tozier has collected quite the anthology." 

The irate side look Richie received from the Police Chief only made him grin. 

"Richie, I'm gonna be here for a bit, go up and sit by my desk." Hanlon sighed as he clicked his pen in defeat and opened the first file of the small mountain. 

Richie saluted as best he could without his hands, more of a tilting nod than anything, "Yessir!" 

Winding his way through the precinct, he passed empty chairs and dark desks, finding the quiet of the area with no phones thrilling, only the distant quiet hum of the cleaners in the corridors, actually quite peaceful. The damp floors squeaked underfoot, and he nodded at Adrian Mellon in a greeting and apology for waking him in the holding cell - caught fighting again probably by the black bruise around his eye, but won by the fact he'd been given the pillow and threadbare blanket. The office at the end of the room was one of the few lights still on, and, with a practised move backwards and with his shoulders, he opened the door and-

"Well hello there." 

The boy had his feet propped up on the polished oak as he sat in the chair facing the desk - Richie's chair, thank you very much - and he was about to remind of him of that fact when he looked back at him. Oh, it was Mike, of course, it was because that would make sense, obviously, he was the chief's son, and who else would be here so late looking especially good in his denim jacket and blue converse and dark eyes and dimpled smile- 

Mike smiled politely, a little crooked in question, "...Hi?"

"I believe you are sat in my seat, but if you just stand up, I'll gladly give you a better one." He winked and Mike's face grew hot but his smile widened, eyes crinkling in an adorable, genuine way that made Richie almost want to apologise for his vulgarity.

“Have I seen you before?” Mike asked, standing up for Richie to shuffle around him and sit. He got a waft of a clean dusty smell. He smirked. 

“Maybe from your dreams, gorgeous.” He manoeuvred his cuffed hands into the empty space of the back of the chair to lean back and look up at his face. Mike chuckled before his features turned thoughtful and he searched his face for a few moments. Richie was starting to feel uncomfortable under his soft stare of warm dark eyes. He clicked suddenly. 

“Bev Marsh. Don’t you hang out with her?” 

Richie blinked, “Yeah. But don’t worry, sugar, she’s just a side piece.” 

Mike hummed and turned to perch on the edge of his father’s desk, crossing his arms, “I know her boyfriend, Ben. I think I see you two smoking outside school sometimes,” He gave a pointed look with a hint of a smile, “Dirty habit.” 

“I’m dirty in other places too.” The words fell out his mouth before he thought about it, as usual, and at this point, most people would’ve gotten sick of his indelicate flirting, but Mike laughed, head falling forward and his hand lifting to cover his mouth. 

"Yeah, I'm sure," He chuckled, sliding his hands into his jeans pockets, and tilted his head, a playful frown on his face. He jerked his chin, "What did you get busted for. Tozier?" 

"Second-degree homicide, I'm afraid," Richie sighed, a bit hypnotised by the way Mike's eyes crinkled in the corners, "Going away for a long time, I expect." 

Mike hummed, smiling until Richie could see a peek of his teeth, "Anyone I know?" 

Richie caught his breath, "No, no. Just my wealthy husband so I could claim the millions in life insurance when I get out." 

"Millions?" Mike feigned thoughtfulness, "Hm. Got room for another in this plan? I could be your alibi lover?" 

Richie blinked and swallowed, hard. All of his thoughts was a sudden cacophony of, holy shit he's flirting with me, with a commanding louder order of, don't fuck it up. But then Mike winked at him and his mouth opened, "You'd have to share the conjugal visits with your mom though." Fuck.

ButMike barks in loud laughter, the force of it bending him over. Unfortunately, his hands were still tucked in his pockets meaning that as he tipped forwards, he shifted his centre of balance, and had him falling directly on top of Richie. Luckily for Richie's face, Mike had surprisingly good reflexes and managed to catch himself on the arms of the chair. But now- 

"Was that seriously a your mom joke?" Richie could feel Mike's breath on his chin, and _wow wow wow wow his eyes were even prettier up close and he's smiling at me oh god his mouth is there it's right there holy shit._ When Richie didn't reply, Mike caught where his eyes were fixated: his mouth. It was only then he realises just how close they had become. He went to pull back, just a few inches, but his heart-dropped in a sudden jolt of _want_ at how Richie unconsciously followed the movement forward.

_O_ _h_ ,

he wanted to kiss him. His mouth was full and parted. And they were alone. And he was, yes, very cute, and, yes, very funny, and, yes, very, very close right now-

"Mike? You around here?" 

Mike jumped back at his father voice, and Richie had to suppress a groan. _So close._

"Yeah, pop, I'm at your desk," Mike called back, straightening his jacket, his eyes focused on where his thumbs rubbed over the buttons. Richie, for a terrifying moment, thought he'd just dreamed the mutual tension, but when Cheif Hanlon rounded the corner, the flustered smile Mike wore as he greeted him had his heart singing, "Just... talking to Richie." 

"Oh?" Hanlon dropped some files on his desk, dropped into the dark leather chair with a sigh, and began to search through his drawers, "Do you two know each other?"

"School, and through some friends," Mike caught his eye and smiled. 

Richie thought he should contribute something if just to make sure his voice still works, "Mike knows Ben, who's Bev's boyfriend." 

Hanlon make a confirming hum, having found the stamp he was looking for and instead flicked through the papers, "Shame Miss Marsh is grounded, I heard the Aladdin is doing a Valentine special this weekend," 

Mike and Richie shared a smile-stifling look. 

"Alright, kid," Hanlon shuffled the files together before settling them down and clasping his hands on top of them, "This time I'm letting you off with a warning," Richie leaned forward, "A _warning,_ Richie. Vandalism is a serious crime but compared to what was... previously there, I believe it's fair to say that it was an _illegal_ improvement." 

Richie knew a slap on the wrist when he heard it and so nodded along, looking as remorseful as he could despite having absolutely none for his deed, "Yes, sir." 

"I'm going to call your father to come pick you up, and I _will_ be explaining why you're here." The Chief finished with a stern look as he stood from his desk, but Richie swore he saw a ghost of a smile. He looked down to hide his own, "Oh, Mikey, here," He passed something to his son on his way out of the door, "I'll meet you by the car, alright, I've still got some things to sort before we lock up." 

"Sure," And as he opened his hand, Richie saw it was the keys to his cuffs. 

"Oh, thank god," He sighed and stood up, turning his back to Mike, "While these are a very sexy accessory, I don't believe that much in the saying that _beauty is pain,_ ya know-" 

His ramblings inhaled to a halt at the feeling of Mike's warm fingers on his wrist. The lock clicked and Richie started to wriggle his arms but Mike placed a hot palm on the inside of his elbow and his body seemed to melt into his touch. His voice was soft with amusement and concentration, "Don't move so much, you'll hurt yourself." 

The cuffs slide off his bony wrists with little restriction then and with a clatter they landed on the desk. Richie rolled the joints until they stopped cracking and then stretched them. Mike eyed the practised ease of the movements and caught the edge of his sleeve when he turned to face him, "Here let me." 

With a firm thumb, he massaged his pale wrists with his soft, warm hands, kneading the tight muscle until the ache had all but subsided. Richie didn't take his eyes off his focused face. Mike looked up and met his awed eyes and mistook it, and smiled apologetically, letting his hands fall, "I read a lot. I know how bad sore wrists are." 

Richie nodded, shoving his hands into his pockets, the shape of Mike's fingertips tingling his skin, "Thanks." 

Mike smiled again, and Richie noticed he did that a lot, but each was warm, different, like they were sculptured just for him for every moment they shared, "No problem." 

They both stood in silence for a moment. Then both began to speak at once, 

"What did you-" 

"Are you free-" 

They both stopped with a laugh. Richie nodded, "You first." 

"What did you do?" Mike asked, standing up straighter, "Actually, what did you do? What did my pop mean with _illegal improvement_?" 

Richie swallowed, something curled in his stomach, and he realised he didn't want to tell him; not because he was ashamed, far from it, but because he knew exactly what he'd done and why he'd done it, and he didn't want it to gain him points with him, or something. He did it because it was the right thing to do, not to win something. So he replied simply, "Oh, just a bit of good ol' graffiti." 

Mike cocked his head, "Like what?" 

Richie shook his head, with a short laugh, "I don't even remember. I just, sort of," He mimed something similiar to trying to control a wild hose, "Everywhere." And it wasn't technically a lie, "But that wall was really ugly, and I'm basically Jackson Pollock, so I one hundred percent improved it, only for the sake of modern art!" 

Laughing, Mike conceded, "Alright, I believe you. Derry isn't exactly the pinnacle of picturesque, so I thank you." 

Richie bowed dramatically, making Mike laugh harder and those crinkles around his eyes appeared again. He steeled himself, swallowing and decided to just _fuck it, "_ Do you want to go to movies with me tomorrow." 

Mike blinked, "What?" 

But Richie wasn't stopping, "Their showing that Valentines Day special thing this weekend, aren't they? I mean, I don't mean you're like my Valentine or something! Unless you want to be? You don't have to answer that, ha ha, I just meant I thought it would be fun, and my friend Stan is working there so we could get in free if you want. I mean, do you even like romance films or anything? I like a couple, like Dirty Dancing, or Pride and Prejudice, or Empire Strikes Back-" 

Mike clapped his hands on Richie's shoulder with a chuckle, stopping the boy in his place with big eyes staring up at him, "Empire Strikes Back isn't a romance movie." 

Richie blinked owlishly at him, "It had a romance in it." 

Mike laughed and searched his face; eyes flicking down to his mouth and then back to eyes with an easy smile, "Won't you be grounded, for possibly ever, after this?" 

Richie shrugged a shoulder, "My folks still don't know the lock on my window is loose, so..." 

Mike bit his lip, knowing that such a blatant disobedience should not be as attractive as he was finding it, "Then," He bent to pick up his satchel, " _If_ you manage to be at the Aladdin at eight tomorrow, I might just happen to be walking that way back from the library." 

Richie grinned. _The library is on the other side of town,_ "I'll be waiting." 

Mike grinned shyly back. 

"Alright, I better catch ya later, Frank." 

"G'night, Will. Say hi to Jess for me, yeah?" He called, hugging the phone receiver to the spot behind his ear, humming into the mouthpiece non-committedly. Hanlon smirked a little as he walked away, twirling his keys in his hand as he waved in confirmation. 

"Mike?" He called as he skipped down the stairs into the foyer. With a wave to Elfrida, he figured his son was waiting by the car and punched in the pin to open the door. 

With a hefty push, the door swung open and he stopped.

In front of him, was Mike, his back to his father as he very clearly had the Tozier boy pressed against the streetlight in the centre of the car park next to his car, illuminating their little corner. Richie's hands were clutching at the back of Mike's denim jacket as Mike held his cheek, tilting his head into his so the light glinted off his thick glasses over his shoulders. Mike's leg was between Richie's, the hand on his hip holding him pressed against him. The two of their mouths moved rhythmically, the bobbing movement of their jaws indication of how deep their kissing was. Something William Hanlon was not keen on ever seeing. 

"Michael!" 

They broke apart suddenly, still very much entwined with another one and Richie's cheeks a noticeable pink. Simultaneously, Mike eyes and Richie's mouth widened; Mike ducking his head into Richie's shoulder in embarrassment whilst Richie propped his chin on the denim-clas shoulder to smile and wave at the Police Chief. 

"Aren't you supposed to be on your way home, Tozier?" Hanlon remarked as he walked towards the two of them. 

"Your darling boy was too seducing I'm afraid, sir," Richie replied, earning him a chuckle from the boy nudging at his neck, "I was corrupted!" 

Hanlon huffed, pinching his nose, too tired to process the situation and resorted with a short, "Your Ma'll be waiting, Mike." 

Mike picked up his head, looking from his father to Richie and looked at his dad with a nervous smile on his lips, "Could you give us a minute, pop?" 

Hanlon looked between them and then nodded, jingling his keys so he could hold up a finger, "One minute." 

As the Police Chief walked around the car, effectively blocking the two boys out, he still caught the small murmurings of them, a chuckle, a sigh. He clambered into the driver's seat and, with a short glance, watched as Richie unfurled from his son to bend down and pick up his satchel, passing it to him with a soft smile and unheard words. Whatever he had said, it made Mike smile just as happily back as he looped the strap over his shoulder, before he slid his hands under the open halves of Richie's leather jacket, Richie's holding his forearms, leaning forward to say something in his ear. Richie smiled through a reply. When Mike tipped back the two shared a short look, one intimate enough to make Hanlon glance away, maybe for the best as he missed how they shared a brief parting kiss. 

His attention was brought back by the motion and noise of Mike opening the passenger door and falling into the low seat. Mike rolled down the window, "See you later, Richie." 

Richie could hardly wave back, his cheeks a dark pink, straightening his glasses, his grin stuck on his face, "See ya." 

Chief Hanlon pulled out of the space, the two of them continuing to wave as he turned to drive down the street - Richie even jogging down the lane a bit to keep in sight of Mike. The Hanlon’s disappeared around the bend with a last double beep of the horn. 

Richie smiled into the twilight, staring after the car, hand dangling in the air. _Tomorrow_ _._

"Richie Tozier, Mike?" 

Mike chuckled, watching the orbs of streetlights blur past the window, illuminating the soft look in his eye, and he lifted a shoulder slightly,

"Bad boys do it better." 

"I don't even want to know what that means, son." 

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: @camoolla 
> 
> follow @ahoylovers and @christmasbarakat as well!


End file.
